


you love him, don't you?

by shiftingslightly



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Denial of Feelings, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Unrequited Love, everyone is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28272639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiftingslightly/pseuds/shiftingslightly
Summary: John is breaking at the seams because of his love for Alexander, which he vehemently denies. Lafayette knows he has to help him, but at what cost?
Relationships: (unrequited), Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, John Laurens/Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	you love him, don't you?

**Author's Note:**

> HEED THE TAGS. Heavily implied suicidal thoughts/suicide. It's very, very angsty, there is no happy ending, everyone is sad. 
> 
> Inspired by this video: https://youtu.be/zhU7jqIm_8o

_Five men sat at a table. One of them looked like he'd rather be anywhere else than with the group of loudmouth revolutionaries, frowning every time they spoke. One of those loudmouth revolutionaries was currently rambling on and on and on about himself, his aspirations, his dreams for the country, everything, with no end in sight. But the curly-haired man didn't seem to mind. In fact, he blushed whenever the rambler looked his way, leaning closer to him as if drawn by some invisible force. The reluctant man was too caught up in being uncomfortable to notice, and the loudest guy was so drunk he could barely sit in his chair. But he noticed. The charming, elegant Frenchman noticed. The curly-haired man had his attention always. But he only had eyes for that short, persistent kid who never stopped._

Lafayette was startled by the sound of someone laughing. _John Laurens._ The cute, curly-haired ray of sunshine who was illegally in love with Alexander. Everyone who knew them well could see it, but no one seemed to notice when his own eyes lingered too long on his friend, when stood a little too close to be platonic. He'd tried to let go, he had, but the stubborn part of him refused, clung tight, even as it destroyed him. But as he watched Laurens watch Alexander, he knew he had to shove that part away for his friend's sake, had to save him before it was too late for him as well.

Hercules was slouched in his chair, passed out from exhaustion and alcohol. He eyed the drink in front of him and for a moment, the follies of his hometown returned. _Honestly, the Americans have no sense of good alcohol,_ he thought, before reminding himself that he was in America, in the middle of a war, where champagne was scarce and no one cared as long as there was some sort of alcohol. He saw Alexander mouthing off to someone, and John watching him, obviously starstruck. Lafayette sighed. Just like when they first met. He even saw Burr, across the room, looking highly uncomfortable as usual. 

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" asked a slightly drunk Laurens, accent seeping in. Laf pushed all dirty thoughts to the side, something he'd become very good at in recent months since Alexander arrived. It was a joy to have him, of course, but it stung to have John taken away from him so quickly. Months of working up courage, gone just like that. He sighed, turning to John. "Nothing, mon amo-ami, just how similar this is to when we first met." John sighed, turning away. No. Not so similar. He hid his pain behind a bright smile. "Yeah! Did you see Burr over by the corner?" Lafayette laughed. "Of course, our party is never complete without him." 

Burr, who'd appeared out of nowhere, scowled. "I wish it was," he said grumpily. Lafayette waved a hand at him. "You are the worst, Burr," he said. John laughed.Alexander appeared at his side, smiling. "Come dance with me, Jacky!" he chirped.He accepted and grinned, kissing his hand lightly and letting himself get swept away, trying to forget the circumstances.

"Mon dieu," Lafayette muttered. "He is going to kill himself, repressing his feelings like that." As much as he hated to do it, as much as he knew how much pain it would cause the both of them, he knew what he had to do.

John's dance with Alex ended, and Alex floated away, finding a girl to dance with. _Right. A girl. You should find one too._ Just then Lafayette appeared at his side, two flutes of champagne in his hand. He offered one to John, who accepted gratefully. "Jesus, American alcohol needs to step up its game," John said when he took a sip. Lafayette snorted. "You would fit right in in France, mon amour," he said, steering John away from everyone else. "Laf? What-" Laf sighed. 

"You love him."

John stared at him, the implications of that sentence hanging in the air between them. _Him. Him. Him._

"You think you have everyone fooled, don't you?" he asked gently.

John froze, every moment he'd let his guard down flashing through his eyes. Every moment he'd shown something towards Alex that was more than friendship, hoping beyond hope that there was a place in Alex's heart for him.

"Well, not me, mon coer. I've known you too long," Laf continued, with something that looked like sadness in his deep brown eyes.

"And no matter how hard you try to deny it... I can tell you care about him deeply."

"Of course I do, he's my friend!" John said weakly, trying to defend himself. But every flimsy wall he'd built to keep his feelings out came tumbling down as Laf laid it out for him, forced him to confront his feelings.

There was a long pause, in which the only sound was the revellers in the background.

"Why are you doing this?" John asked finally, his voice cracking as tears streamed down his face.

"You have to let him go," said Lafayette quietly. "It'll destroy you from the the inside if you do not. Trust me, mon coer, I know."

He had a sudden, distant memory of a teacher trying to get him to learn French. He'd never been that good, and he had no idea how or why he remembered this particular bit. He wished he hadn't. _"Mon coer,"_ the teacher had said in his monotonous voice, _"is 'my heart'. Usually used as a term of affection. Moving on-"_ How was he to know, sheltered in his fancy manor with his servants and his family riches, that someday that word would come to mean so much? 

Laf loved him, had always loved him. And John wished he could love him back. But if he had, they wouldn't be standing here, having this conversation, and they both knew it.

"You need to admit you care for him." Laf's eyes were gentle, sympathetic. John shook his head furiously.

"I know that you do."

"Laf!" John cried.

He knew. He'd always known. From the moment he first laid eyes on Alexander, to the first letter he received. That cheeky grin of his, the spark in his eyes whenever he looked at or talked about something he loved. John's eyes left Lafayette's, opting instead to search for Alexander. He found him in the center of the room, that same spark lighting up his eyes as he talked to Elizabeth Schuyler. His newlywed wife. He couldn't love Alexander. He didn't.

"You love him, don't you?"

John crumpled, leaning into Lafayette. He realized how horrible he was being to Laf, who'd loved him for years before Alexander, who'd done this for John at the cost of his own heart. And now he found himself with John in his arms. But it wasn't how he'd ever imagined.

Lafayette held John for a while, letting the tears flow freely. "I do," John choked out eventually. And that was all he could say. 

Alexander came waltzing over at one point, concerned and asking what was wrong. John cried harder. Alexander cared. But not in the ways that counted to him. Lafayette said a few words in French to him and he left, throwing worried glances over his shoulder.

He loved him. He was in love with Alexander Hamilton. He'd loved him ever since he saw that first letter arrive. He thought he'd read it correctly, seen the flirtatious tone, gotten his hopes up. That maybe, someday, he'd take the hint and make a move. Because John was too afraid to. _And maybe it's for the best,_ John thought. Alex was married now, to a young, beautiful, rich girl. And John was supposed to act happy for him.

_Crying at your best friend's wedding. Pathetic._

Later that night, Lafayette was left alone in his tent to deal with the consequences of what he'd done. John loved Alexander, still loved him. The proof was clear in Laf's tear-stained coat, in the way John had sobbed out, "I do." And John would never get over Alex, this he knew. He'd always hold a part of his heart for Alexander, the way he himself held a part for John. Who'd never, and never did, at any point in time, love him. The beautiful, cute, handsome John Laurens would never love him the way he did. And he himself was the cause of it. He crumpled into his cot, crying silently.

Lying in bed after the wedding, after he and Eliza had done what they were free to do as a married couple, Alexander thought not of his wife but of John. Of his beautiful laugh, his art, his wits. He'd married Eliza, but he knew in his heart of hearts that he loved John. Eliza would always be dear to him, but his love for John was fiery, all-consuming. He'd made a mistake. It was clear. He shouldn't have done this. He wanted John.

He spent his wedding night sobbing in his bed next to his wife, wishing he was kissing his best friend.

John walked home, tears dripping down his face. He'd left when everyone started giving their toasts to the newlywed couple. He was supposed to give one, as the best man, but he didn't think he could take it. _Selfish. Couldn't even do it for Alex._ He cried even harder, barely seeing where he was going. He loved Alexander. But it was illegal, and he was going to burn in hell for it. He cried. _And for what? Was it really worth loving him? Was anything ever worth it?_

_Two weeks later._

Lafayette stood in his home, letter in hand. _No. No. No._ But it was right there, written on a paper, clear as day, for him to see. He hated it. 

"Alexander, there's a letter for you." "It's from John Laurens, I'll read it later." "No. It's from his father." "His father?" Alexander sat up straighter. "Eliza, will you read it for me?"

Lafayette began to read for the hundredth time.

_On Tuesday the 27th, my son was killed in a gunfight by troops retreating from South Carolina. As you know, the war was already over. Eyewitnesses say he instigated it, and was slow to react as they drew their guns. It was a one-to-five fight._

John Laurens was gone. No one would ever again hear his laugh, watch him as he focused, talk with him. He was gone. He'd killed himself. 

Alexander screamed. "NO!" The sound echoed through their house. "Alexander-" Eliza started, but he cut her off, running past her. "I have so much work to do."

He lay crying in his office, curled into a ball on the floor. He'd killed John. This was his fault. If he hadn't gone and married Eliza, maybe- just maybe- he could have spent his life with John. Maybe he could have convinced him to stay, that his friends needed him- who was he kidding. Alex needed him. And now he was gone.

Lafayette sobbed, clutching on to Hercules. "He's gone- gone- and it's my fault-" He knew he never should have said anything. This wouldn't have happened if he hadn't said anything. "Shhh," Hercules whispered. "No it wasn't." "YOU DO NOT KNOW THAT! YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT I DID!" Lafayette screamed, immediately crying harder. "Did you- did you fire the gun that killed him?" "No," Laf sniffled. "Then you didn't kill him." But Laf knew he was wrong. 

They stared at the paper again. Killed in a gunfight. Killed. _Killed_. They knew he was amazing with a gun- if anything, swordplay was his weak spot. But he'd started a gunfight against retreating troops and none of them died. Why? Why, John? 

Alexander and Lafayette were miles away from each other. They were in completely different situations, in completely different places. But they were both feeling the same terrible, all-consuming heartbreak. They were both asking the same question, over and over and over as if that could bring him back.

_We loved you, John. Why did you leave us?_

_The wind blew across the cemetery, scattering the flowers on a grave. Buttercups and sunflowers, laid by two different people. The petals flew away on the wind, allowing a clearer look at the inscription on the stone._

_Rest In Peace, John Laurens._

**Author's Note:**

> once again, PLEASE leave a comment oh my god I feed off them ~~and your tears~~ I need comments they fuel me tell me what you thought!


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